Tempt Not A Desperate Man
by ilovetvalot
Summary: She was a temptation he was hard pressed to resist. 23rd in our Shakespeare Series. Post-ep for "Reflections of Desire".


_**Author's Note: Hello, wonderful readers. At any rate, we have just a few announcements for everyone today.**_

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_**This is 22nd in our Shakespeare Series of post-eps. This follows "Reflections of Desire".**_

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**Tempt Not a Desperate Man**

He was a hypocrite.

A big talking, finger pointing, lying to his own face hypocrite.

And he knew it.

He couldn't keep his eyes off her. Despite his earlier admonishment for Reid's behavior at Grand Central Station - which, incidentally, unlike him, he doubted very much was sexually stimulated - he, himself, was worse.

He couldn't stop at merely casting an interested glance in her direction. Not even close. Instead, her every movement mesmerized him...and he had to wonder if it was calculated interest on her part that she was using to captivate him.

What other excuse could she have for wearing that sweater? Red and fitted, the material molded to her slender curves like a second skin.

And it was driving him to the brink of his tenuous hold on his sanity.

Twice, while they'd worked at the local police precinct today, he'd almost been overcome with jealousy, unbelievably tempted to rip the head off of more than one uniformed cop. Of course, he'd settled for refocusing their attention on the profile at hand, but still...the abnormal urge had very definitely been present.

Hissing in a breath as he watched Emily Prentiss lift her hands over her head, ostensibly to stretch her tired muscles, Aaron Hotchner felt his own trousers tighten as the soft fabric pulled taut over her well rounded breasts and the hem of her sweater slid upward, baring a creamy strip of her midriff as she leaned back in her chair.

It was official. He was in hell.

Glancing ruefully down at the evidence that his body wasn't completely destroyed by the last few traumatic months, he could feel his libido building. Hell, he should be thankful for the recognizable reaction. It certainly didn't occur very often. Since Haley had divorced him, he'd had exactly one lover. Diane, from accounting. A nice enough lady, he'd managed to convince his body to cooperate with his mind on the few occasions they'd been intimate, and his sex drive had performed the requisite function.

But it hadn't been special. And it certainly hadn't been love.

What it had been was convenient. And legal. And ethical. It had been the complete antithesis of what he wanted to do now, he thought with a glare down into the nearly empty bullpen below as he stood at the window to his office.

Thank God it was Friday. He should have two days to regroup...to gather his wits and concentrate on getting his baser urges under control. To fight these damnable feelings that he'd been experiencing the last several months.

Running a hand over his face, he shook his head. He should have stuck to his initial plan and screwed what David Rossi had felt. Romancing JJ would have been a hell of a lot easier than suffering through these complicated emotions now plaguing him for Emily Prentiss. Of course, there was the small fact that he wasn't attracted to JJ...but perhaps that would have happened over time.

Moot point now, he thought dryly, watching as the older profiler walked toward the elevator, lifting his hand to Emily in goodbye. Dave had staked his claim on the former media liaison, and he had not-so-kindly informed all around them that the woman was spoken for. That deal was as good as done, he grimly decided, watching as the elevator doors slid shut on the elder man.

His eyes traveled back to Emily again, nearly groaning as he watched the dark haired woman bend to gather some papers she'd dropped, her curvaceous ass swinging in the air. That was it, he thought grouchily. He was outlawing jeans in the office. An ass like that, lovingly cupped by the tight denim jeans confining it, was a distraction that couldn't be born. Not even by him.

Maybe he should just give in...go down there and do what he had fantasized of doing for months. Awake, asleep, working or lounging, his thoughts consumed him. Thoughts of her.

It was only sheer willpower that kept his control from slipping. And that valued determination was eroding quickly.

He wasn't sure what it was about her that beckoned him. Was it that disinterested air she had perfected in the cradle? Was it that perfectly poised mask she wore, almost as familiar to him as his own? Was it her elegant beauty that enticed him…or was it the fact that a primal part of him wanted to see how fast he could assist her in losing that regal composure?

Great, he thought bitterly, now he'd slipped from simply imagining her naked, glistening body in his bed to...more highly inappropriate X-rated activities.

That was not part of his plan. Not at all.

"Ridiculous, not to mention impossible, Aaron," he muttered to himself as he forced himself to take a step back from the window. She was a subordinate...a trusted friend.

And she'd kick his ass from here to the Capitol if she even suspected the path his mind had taken.

Wouldn't she?

Scrubbing a hand across his weary face, he sighed.

Now, that was the rub, wasn't it?

He simply didn't know the answer to that question anymore. Because for all her cool professionalism, he'd sensed a change in Emily lately...a shift in their carefully balanced relationship. And, now, he wasn't entirely certain that an overture from him would be rebuffed. Too many lingering touches and secretive smiles had inspired his imagination to run rampant.

And she wasn't helping anything with those damned sweaters of hers, he thought with a grouchy scowl toward the window as he grabbed his own suit coat from the back of the chair.

Shake it off, Hotchner, he ordered himself sternly, ramming his arms into the sleeves. Emily Prentiss is off limits. Developing a relationship outside the parameters of what was sanctioned by the Bureau was unacceptable. To and for both of them.

Grabbing his briefcase, he turned out the lights in his office and hurried down the metal staircase, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and the raven haired temptation as possible.

Nodding jerkily at her when she lifted her dark eyes to him, he was assaulted by a fresh wave of desire. Her serene smile...her eyes, slightly crinkled at the corner...the tilt of her head...all of it threatened to overwhelm his well placed defenses. "Have a good evening, Prentiss," he said gruffly, his tongue suddenly dry in his mouth.

Blinkingly slowly, Emily's lips twisted in a sly grin as she let herself focus on man before her. "You, too," she said melodiously, watching as her boss stiffly stepped on the elevator, the metal doors sliding shut behind him.

And settling back in her chair, she sighed in satisfaction. Step one to the seduction of Aaron Hotchner had obviously achieved success.

She was the temptress. And she intended on playing her part perfectly.

_**Finis**_


End file.
